Trials
by GreenSage
Summary: Another tale from the Bonding Universe. Darkness falls, and Qui-Gon wonders if it will ever be light again. COMPLETE.


Title: Trials  
  
Author: Sage (greensage2@yahoo.com)  
  
Rating: G (does angst count for PG?)  
  
Warnings: Angst ahoy! Grab the tissues, folks (but you know me - it's *mild*)  
  
Series: Part of my "Bonding Universe" collection of stories. Not exactly a series -- just a collection of episodes.  
  
Summary: Darkness falls, and Qui-Gon wonders if it will ever be light again.  
  
N.B. - Reading "Tales from the Bonding Universe" is recommended before reading this story.  
  
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"For 10,000 years and more, the Galaxy's finest warriors and diplomats have been trained in the Jedi Temple," the tour guide said to his following. "If not within these walls, then within their predecessors and also in the satellite temples located on various worlds around the Galaxy."  
  
The elder Knight was leading a group of families around the more public areas of the Temple. His guests were the families of children who had been brought to the Temple and found to be Force-sensitive enough to be accepted into the Order. It was his job to show the parents that their children would be safe and well-cared-for when they were left behind with the Jedi.  
  
"If you'll follow me, I will show you the crèche where your little ones will live, and the facilities they use for their first classes and training."  
  
The old Knight didn't notice when a solitary young man joined his tour, blending in with the other guests.  
  
Ceriac did his best to look attentive. So this was the place where they had taken his twin. His playmate, his best friend, his other half. Hrendal had been his shining star. He was strong in the Force, and so the Jedi had taken him, with their parents' blessing. Ceriac had been happy for him, of course, but was despondent when he found out that he couldn't accompany his brother. He wasn't strong enough in the Force to be a Jedi. And so they'd finished their childhood apart, sending messages back and forth constantly.  
  
Hrendal had been thrilled when, at age eleven, he'd been chosen as a Padawan. Ceriac, naturally, had been delighted for him. A year later, the family received word that Hrendal was going to go on his first mission, a low-level diplomatic assignment. He'd been so excited. From the way he'd chattered on in a holo-vid message, one would've thought the boy was on his way out to save the universe.  
  
Three days later, a Temple communiqué arrived to inform them that Hrendal and his Master had been unexpectedly killed on the mission, murdered by a rebel militia opposed to the negotiations the Jedi had tried to mediate.  
  
That very day, Ceriac pledged enmity to the Jedi, despite his parents' decision not to fault the Order for circumstances beyond its control. On their home world of Mander, it was meet for the kin of a murdered person to avenge the slaying of their loved one. Ceriac vowed to do just that, with or without the support of his parents. It had taken him seven years to save up the money and acquire what he needed, but now, he was on Coruscant, in the very den of the scum that had sent his beloved Hrendal to an early death.  
  
Ceriac cradled the container he held concealed beneath his cloak, and the faintest ghost of a feral grin flickered across his face. Soon, he would have his revenge. And the Jedi would know the pain of losing a child. With luck, they would know the pain of losing many of their little brats.  
  
The elder Knight at length brought the tour to the edge of the Children's Garden. "This is the main Garden where the young children play and learn," he said to his guests. "You can see that it's a happy place; your children will be cherished and well-cared-for. They will thrive in these pleasant surroundings, and they will grow to be good, decent people, and they will take their places as the Republic's finest diplomats, warriors, and peace- keepers."  
  
Ceriac could scarcely contain his sneer. Poor unsuspecting fools. Little did they know they were giving their precious babies to pack of murderous fiends who threw away children's lives like they were so much chaff.  
  
Even after the passage of over half a decade, his irrational hatred of the people who he deemed responsible for his brother's death had not diminished.  
  
Ceriac slipped away from the tour, unnoticed by the Knight guiding the group. Under the cover of the flowery riot of ornamental shrubs, he slunk toward a large reflecting pool. Once at its edge, he took out a clear, water-filled transparisteel cylinder, in which floated a medium-sized fish, colored brilliantly blue and with shimmering, iridescent fins that were beautiful beyond compare. It was a vacrefish, a creature indigenous to his home world. Just perfect for attracting the attention of an unwary child, the young man reflected smugly. With luck, the Jedi's children would start falling ill and dying that very day.  
  
He set the fish free in the pool, pocketed the cylinder, and rejoined the tour on its way out of the Garden.  
  
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As was his wont, Obi-Wan had managed to slip away from the larger group of crèchelings as they played in the main Garden. His eternally inquisitive nature drew him towards one of the reflecting pools, where he could watch the endless dance of the fish that lived beneath its glassy surface.  
  
As he gazed at the wriggling, tangled mass of fish, he saw a creature there that he'd never observed before. It was a beautiful fish, the same deep blue as his Quigee's eyes. It had shiny, sparkling fins that Obi-Wan couldn't help but reach out to touch, so spellbound was he by the stunning creature.  
  
The gossamer fins whispered across his outstretched fingers, and Obi-Wan giggled at the ticklish sensation.  
  
The fish, apparently annoyed with him, suddenly lunged and sank its needle- sharp fangs into Obi-Wan's finger.  
  
Obi-Wan yelped and yanked his hand back, sticking the injured digit into his mouth. He giggled again and pushed his awareness toward the fish, trying to tell it that he only wanted to be its friend, and that it needn't be so defensive.  
  
It gave him the fishy equivalent of a disdainful sniff and swam off away from the rest of the fish.  
  
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, where are you?" one of the Crèche Masters called.  
  
"Oops," Obi-Wan muttered and scampered off to join his yearmates.  
  
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Crèche Master Aronna was worried. Obi-Wan Kenobi was acting most peculiar. Specifically, he was sitting still *without being told.* He was also blinking uncertainly as he looked around the large common room of the crèche. She watched him cradle his hand against his chest, clearly nursing an injury.  
  
She approached the little boy quietly. "Obi-Wan, did you hurt your hand?"  
  
Obi-Wan looked up at Master Aronna. He was relieved that she came over to talk to him. Master Aronna could fix everything. He was certain she would be able to fix his sore finger and make the room stop bending into funny shapes and colors.  
  
"A fish bit me in the Garden," Obi-Wan told the woman.  
  
Aronna noted Obi-Wan's over-bright eyes and flushed cheeks with concern. She laid a cool hand on his forehead. "Force, child, you're burning with fever!" she exclaimed, her worry growing by the minute. "What sort of fish was it?" she asked as she helped him to his feet.  
  
Obi-Wan squinted up at her uncertainly. "Pretty fish. Just like Quigee's eyes. Pretty sparkly fish," he said dazedly. He blinked slowly, then raised an imploring hand to the Crèche Master right before the world faded to black, and he crumpled to the ground.  
  
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Qui-Gon's ship was still a million miles from Coruscant when he began to feel it. The bond he had with Obi-Wan was alive with fear and pain. He cried out in sympathetic anguish and fled to the bridge.  
  
"Faster," he gasped at the pilot. "You've got to get me back to the Temple NOW."  
  
The pilot cast an irritated glance over his shoulder. "You'll get back when I get you there, Master Jedi."  
  
"Please," Qui-Gon begged, falling to his knees and clutching his head against the pain and desperation that flooded through him. "Someone I share a bond with is... oh Force, he's dying!" Qui-Gon grabbed the startled pilot's shoulders and shook him. "Hurry!" he bellowed.  
  
"P-p-please, Master Jedi," the startled pilot stuttered, "I'll get us back as soon as I can."  
  
"Sound your distress call. If he dies, you'll have a dead Jedi Master on your hands. The bond we share is not breakable even in death. Unless you want to deliver my corpse to the Council, you'll land this ship NOW."  
  
The pilot swallowed hard and activated his emergency beacon. The queue of ships waiting to dock on Coruscant melted out of his path when he sounded the tones for medical emergency.  
  
The ship fairly bounced into the landing bay, and Qui-Gon was out of the ship before the ramp was even fully down.  
  
He flew through the Temple in a Force-assisted sprint, heading for the Healers' Wing, heedless of the startled glances and inquiries that followed his passage.  
  
//Hold on, Obi-Wan,// he sent desperately. //Just hold on!//  
  
There was no answer to his call.  
  
He crashed through the doors to the Ward, his eyes darting around frantically until they lit on a knot of Healers working frantically on a body that was heart-breakingly small.  
  
"Obi-Wan!" he shouted.  
  
Two of the Healers disengaged to intercept him. "Now, Master Jinn, you must..."  
  
Qui-Gon tossed them aside like paper dolls in his haste to reach the table. Blazing indigo eyes, terrible in their ferocity and grief, fixed Master Healer Elleron like a bug to a specimen board.  
  
"What is it?" he hissed.  
  
Elleron swallowed hard. "Manderian Fever. Not a problem in adults, but..."  
  
Qui-Gon lunged forward and scooped the deathly still form of his little bondmate off the table. He collapsed into a hastily proffered chair, fused his awareness with the chaotic jumble in the young boy's mind, and sank them both into a deep, healing trance.  
  
Master Healer Elleron blinked, then turned to address his team, poised on a knife's edge to forcibly remove the boy from the Master's embrace if their leader gave the word.  
  
"If anyone can save that child, Master Jinn can. They're bonded. He may be able to purge the toxin from Obi-Wan's system." The Healer sighed. "I'm not sure we would've been able to save the poor wee thing, anyhow. Jinn's his best, and probably his only chance now."  
  
The other Healers slumped, defeated, worried for their little patient.  
  
Qui-Gon sat silent, still as death itself, but inside his mind, a fierce battle was waged against the sickness that gripped his little Imp. Manderian Fever attacked the mind, sabotaging new neural connections and feeding off the energy that flickered within growing neural networks. In adults, it was not a serious affliction. Already fully mature, their brains were not as vulnerable. An adult stricken with the fever might experience a night or two of strange dreams, a sense of mild disorientation, but nothing more. A child's mind, though, could be utterly destroyed by the greedy virus.  
  
Qui-Gon raced through Obi-Wan's mind, mending damaged pathways in a desperate attempt to stop the pernicious disease from obliterating his Imp's bright consciousness. Despite his efforts, that small bright light was growing dim.  
  
//No, Obi-Wan, you can't go yet! I won't let you. You must fight the fever, Imp. I can save you, but you have to fight!//  
  
Fuzzily, as if from a great distance, Qui-Gon heard his salvation. //...Quigee...?//  
  
//Yes. Yes! Yes, Imp, it's me. It's Quigee.// He extended his own mind like a life-preserver. //Grab on tight, Imp, and don't let go. I need just another minute.//  
  
//'Kay,// came softly from Obi-Wan's mind. Instinctively, like he had ever since he was a baby, Obi-Wan mentally wrapped himself in Qui-Gon's consciousness.  
  
In a final, exhausting rush, Qui-Gon repaired all the damage he could find and pounced on the rampaging fever virus like a panther. Shielding his little Imp from the impact, he brought all the strength of a Jedi Master to bear against the organism. A blinding flash, and Obi-Wan's mind was quiet, peaceful. Blessedly empty of the virus. He carefully tucked Obi-Wan's now- sleeping consciousness back where it belonged.  
  
Elleron and his team stood around the chair in which the Jedi Master sat, clutching the little crècheling fiercely to himself. Sweat was pouring off Qui-Gon's brow, mute testament to his silent battle. All at once, Qui- Gon's tired blue eyes fluttered open.  
  
"The worst is over now," he said hoarsely. "Obi-Wan is sleeping. I think he'll make it." With that, his eyes rolled back into his head, which fell back against the chair with an audible thunk.  
  
Elleron blinked, then swore. "Quick, somebody get a drip established for Master Jinn. He's exhausted and dehydrated. Give me the little one. I'll put him to bed and we can put him and the Master in same room. Force knows Qui-Gon will take this place apart if he wakes up and finds young Kenobi missing. Look sharp, now."  
  
The paralyzed Healer team leapt into action, levitating the unconscious Jedi Master onto an anti-grav stretcher and trundling him into a treatment area, immediately beginning to pump fluids and nutrients into the exhausted man's body. Elleron carried his precious little burden into one of the private recovery rooms, where he settled the boy into one of the comfortable beds.  
  
"Rest easy, little one," he murmured as he tucked a blanket around the sleeping child. "I'll have your savior in here with you soon."  
  
Not far away, Qui-Gon stirred and groaned as the fluids and nutrients surging through his blood did their work and slowly restored him to consciousness.  
  
He blinked hazily at Healer Elleron, who was leaning over him and peering anxiously at him. "Obi-Wan?" he asked in a strained voice.  
  
"Sleeping comfortably. I'll put you in a room with him. He'll likely be very disoriented when he wakes up, and a familiar presence will help that. The bond you share is strong, indeed. We would not have been able to save him, and I doubt a soul-healer would've been able to repair the damage without knowing him as well as you do. You saved his life, Master Jinn."  
  
Qui-Gon exhaled with relief. Obi-Wan was safe, then. "Thank the Force."  
  
"Indeed. I feared for him. You should be fine in a few minutes. Just coming off a mission and exerting all that effort to save young Kenobi exhausted you. We're just rehydrating you and restoring your electrolyte balance."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "Thank you for trusting me to take care of him. I would have anyway, but I'm glad no one was injured in the process."  
  
Elleron gulped and was uncomfortably reminded that Qui-Gon Jinn was a Jedi Master of no little power. Things could've turned very ugly, indeed, had he not trusted his intuition and let the younger man do what he could to save their little patient.  
  
One of the monitors to which Qui-Gon had been hastily connected bleeped. Elleron blinked, startled out of his momentary reverie, and consulted the readouts.  
  
"Well, Master Jinn, your heart rate and blood pressure have returned to normal, and your electrolyte balance appears to be restored. I'm going to take you off the monitors and put you in to rest with Obi-Wan. But you *will* rest, or else I'll have you hooked up to so many machines you'll wish you were a droid." The Healer fixed Qui-Gon with a stern glare.  
  
The younger Jedi glared back at him mutinously.  
  
"I'm serious, Qui-Gon. You've badly taxed your resources this day. You need to rest until the morning, at least. If you don't, I imagine you'll be spending more time than you'd like with us."  
  
*That* made Qui-Gon think twice. He *hated* being confined to the Medical Wing. He nodded tersely to the Healer, a silent promise to behave himself.  
  
Elleron summoned two of his assistants, and they got Qui-Gon settled into the other bed in Obi-Wan's room. The little boy still slumbered on, sleeping off the aftermath of his bout with the fever. Qui-Gon stared at the other bed, clearly wanting to be closer to his bondmate, but his Force control was still too unsteady to levitate Obi-Wan over to him.  
  
Elleron glanced at Qui-Gon and sighed. "This is seriously against protocol, you know, but in the interest of keeping you from injuring yourself or the little one..." He carefully gathered Obi-Wan's sleeping form into his arms and settled him next to the Jedi Master.  
  
Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his Imp, sighed, and surrendered to sleep, himself.  
  
Elleron chuckled and left the room, only to be fairly bowled over by Crèche Master Aronna as she came tearing into the ward.  
  
"Obi-Wan," she gasped out breathlessly, "is he...?"  
  
Elleron grasped the woman's forearms to steady her. "He's going to be fine. Master Jinn's return was most fortuitous."  
  
Aronna sagged with relief. "Thank the Force for that." Her eyes, dreadfully intense, came back up to meet the Healer's. "Elleron, it was a rabid vacrefish, and it was in a reflecting pool in the Children's Garden."  
  
Elleron's jaw dropped. "Vacrefish are forbidden in the Temple precisely because they carry Manderian Fever and could infect the youngsters. And in the Children's Garden... Force, that means this was deliberate."  
  
"Someone put that there with the intent to kill the children," she hissed, "and I will not rest until I see them punished for it."  
  
Elleron silently squeezed Aronna's shoulder. He knew how protective she was of the crèchelings in her care. Remembering how small and helpless Obi- Wan had looked while he and his team worked so desperately to save him, Elleron decided that if Aronna wanted some help, he'd be more than happy to volunteer.  
  
"Were any of the other children infected?"  
  
"No, fortunately. Thank goodness it's not an airborne fever. Obi-Wan was the only one bitten by the fish before it was discovered."  
  
"Does the Council know about this?" he asked.  
  
Aronna nodded. "They know, and they're investigating. I've never seen Yoda so angry. But then, as Obi-Wan's likely Grandmaster, he's close to the boy. Whoever the culprit is, he's going to have to deal with Yoda personally, and then I'd wager Qui-Gon will obliterate whatever's left."  
  
Elleron chuckled wryly. Obliterate, indeed.  
  
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Qui-Gon came suddenly awake when Obi-Wan stirred against him. "Imp?" he asked quietly, not wanting to startle the boy, who had to be disoriented after his bout with the Fever.  
  
Obi-Wan twitched and yawned. "Quigee?" he asked drowsily.  
  
Qui-Gon grinned tiredly. "Yes, Imp, it's me. How do you feel?"  
  
"Ummmm... sleepy. And my head hurts."  
  
"That will pass. We're at the Healers, Imp; you were very sick. I'm glad you're feeling better now."  
  
Obi-Wan sniffled sleepily and burrowed into the young Master's warmth.  
  
"Quigee? Why's it so dark? The Healers always leave a light on."  
  
Qui-Gon went rigid as he glanced around the brightly lit room. "Dark, Obi- Wan?" he asked carefully.  
  
"Uh-huh. I can't see anything. Can you?"  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "Uh, the Healers were worried that the fever you had might make your eyes hurt," he improvised. "I need to call for Healer Elleron so that he can check your eyes before they turn the lights back on."  
  
Qui-Gon gently turned Obi-Wan's face up toward his own. The child's huge grey-green eyes, normally sparkling with life and mischief, were frighteningly empty.  
  
Fear rising in his throat, Qui-Gon hit the call button next to his bed. "I need Healer Elleron. Now," he said tersely to the apprentice Healer that appeared in the doorway. The young man scampered off to find his superior, the worry in Qui-Gon's eyes sending him packing.  
  
Elleron put in an appearance a moment later.  
  
"Well, little lad, I hear you're up and about."  
  
Obi-Wan's head perked up, and he looked for the Healer. In the wrong direction.  
  
"My eyes don't hurt, so can you turn the lights on?"  
  
Elleron's eyes flew to meet Qui-Gon's anguished gaze. The Healer cleared his throat. "Well, Obi-Wan, I have to check your eyes first before I can risk exposing them to light," he said soothingly. "This won't hurt a bit now. I'm just going to put my hand on your forehead."  
  
Obi-Wan held still as Elleron's cool, dry hand settled on his brow.  
  
Qui-Gon watched as the Healers eyes went unfocused for a minute, then a perplexed expression settled over his face.  
  
"Well, little one, I think we'll have to keep the lights off a little bit longer, just to be safe."  
  
Obi-Wan pouted. "Okay, if you have to," he grumbled.  
  
"Qui-Gon, I'm going to help you up. We need to see if you're ambulatory yet."  
  
Qui-Gon knew the Healer was lying, but he struggled to his feet anyway.  
  
Obi-Wan reached for his bondmate, his little hands questing pitifully for reassurance. "Quigee? You sick too? You okay?"  
  
"Yes, Imp. I had a rough mission, so Healer Elleron here decided to fix me up a bit. I'll be right back." He gently cupped the side of Obi-Wan's face with one large hand.  
  
The boy subsided at his touch, snuggling back down into the warm blankets, his russet curls tumbled against the white pillow. "M'kay. I'll wait up for you, Quigee, then we can have 'nother nap."  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "Sounds like a good idea to me, Imp. See you in just a minute."  
  
Elleron helped Qui-Gon to the door, and the two men stepped outside.  
  
"His eyes..." Qui-Gon began, but subsided when Elleron motioned him to silence.  
  
"There's nothing physically wrong with his eyes," the Healer said quietly. "The eyes, themselves, are working, and his optical nerves are whole and still alive. He *should* be able to see. For some reason, his brain just doesn't understand the information his eyes are sending it."  
  
Qui-Gon remembered how he'd tried to fix the fever-damage, reconnecting pathways in Obi-Wan's brain that the virus had devoured.  
  
"Oh, Force, what if *I* did this to him?" Qui-Gon grated, his agony plain for the Healer to see.  
  
Elleron took hold of Qui-Gon's shoulders. "Now you listen here, Master Jedi. You did what neither I nor any other Healer on this Ward had a prayer of doing. You saved that little boy's life. Without you, he would have died. His eyes and his brain are perfectly normal. They just aren't talking to each other for reasons I do not understand."  
  
"Will he regain his sight?" Qui-Gon fixed Elleron with a desperately hopeful stare.  
  
The Healer sighed and examined his shoes. "I don't know, Qui-Gon. There's nothing I can do to fix his eyes. Bacta won't fix it, and there are no obvious injuries to heal. I think all we can do is wait and see if Obi- Wan's brain decides to start receiving signals from his eyes again." Elleron raised his eyes to Qui-Gon's. "I don't know how likely that is."  
  
"No," Qui-Gon whispered and scrubbed at his haggard face with his hands.  
  
Elleron reached out and gripped the young man's shoulder. "He's going to have to be told, Qui-Gon. We don't either of us know if he'll ever see again. He has to know, and he has to be taught how to compensate, if he can even stay in the Order."  
  
Qui-Gon's eyes blazed angrily. "Stay in the Order? Of course he will. The day the Order turns its back on a *child* because of the effects of an illness is the day I will turn in my saber." The Jedi Master's words rang with the solemnity of a sacred vow.  
  
Elleron nodded silently, then moved to help Qui-Gon back to bed. Before they entered the room, however, the Healer paused.  
  
"Qui-Gon, you ought to know. Obi-Wan contracted the fever from a rabid vacrefish that was set loose in one of the pools in the Children's Garden."  
  
Qui-Gon froze. "You mean..."  
  
Elleron nodded gravely. "Someone is trying to kill the Jedi's children."  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard, fury rising into his throat like bile. "Do they know who?" he demanded, his voice a harsh, rasping echo of its normal resonant tones.  
  
Elleron shook his head. "Not yet."  
  
Qui-Gon exhaled explosively. "When they find the bastard," he hissed, "he is MINE."  
  
Elleron swallowed hard and was suddenly very glad to be above suspicion in this case. He wasn't at all sure Qui-Gon would wait for confirmation before annihilating whomever he thought responsible for the attack on his bondmate. He helped Qui-Gon back into the room, settling the Jedi Master next to his young charge.  
  
"Quigee?" Obi-Wan's empty eyes blinked open, and he reached out a hand, tentatively searching for his bondmate.  
  
Qui-Gon's heart broke all over again as he reached out to gently take the boy's hand and hug him close. "We have to leave the lights off for a while longer, Imp," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We'll see how your eyes are after you sleep some more."  
  
Obi-Wan relaxed back into the mattress and back into the Master's embrace, reassured. "Okay," he said simply, then sighed and shut his eyes.  
  
It was a long time before Qui-Gon followed him into slumber.  
  
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When Qui-Gon awoke again, Obi-Wan was still sound asleep. He slept with the abandon of the very young, sprawled limply against the Jedi Master's warmth. Qui-Gon gently stroked the boy's reddish curls, careful not to wake him.  
  
"Qui-Gon?" a soft, feminine voice inquired.  
  
Qui-Gon glanced up. Crèche Master Aronna was seated in a chair beside the bed. The blond woman looked frail and weary, showing her age for the first time in all the years that Qui-Gon had known her.  
  
"Master," Qui-Gon murmured respectfully.  
  
"How is he?" she whispered  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. "He is alive, thank the Force for that. The last time he was awake, though, he still couldn't see."  
  
Aronna gasped involuntarily. "Blind?"  
  
Qui-Gon's heart squeezed painfully when Aronna uttered the word that no one had yet dared to use. "Perhaps. His eyes and brain are both in perfect working order; they just aren't talking to each other."  
  
"Is this blindness permanent?"  
  
"Blind?" a small voice quavered uncertainly.  
  
Qui-Gon resisted the urge to swear, and Aronna clapped her hand over her mouth in dismay. The last thing Qui-Gon had wanted was for Obi-Wan to find out about his lingering ailment this way. He'd wanted to ease Obi-Wan into it, not have it dropped on the boy's head like this.  
  
"Blind??" Obi-Wan squeaked again, his vacant eyes darting around frantically, trying to see his bondmate. He lurched up to his knees in the bed, wobbling unsteadily as he groped blindly for Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master took his little hands and held them gently.  
  
Tears streaming down her face, Master Aronna stood. "I'll see that he's cleared to stay with you until this...situation is settled one way or another, Qui-Gon. I'll see you're placed on leave until further notice, if I have to hold the entire Council hostage," she whispered determinedly.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded his thanks, and the Crèche Master left.  
  
He could feel Obi-Wan's panic building higher and higher, and he hastened to soothe the little boy's fear. "Hush, Imp. Don't be afraid. I'm right here, and I won't leave you."  
  
Obi-Wan's hands slid out of Qui-Gon's grip, then fumbled for the Master's face. "Can't see you," the boy whimpered. "Can't see you, Quigee. *Want* to see you."  
  
Obi-Wan's face was turned upward imploringly as he ran his fingers over Qui- Gon's leonine features, eventually twining in the long mane of hair. His small, pink lower lip trembled as his sightless eyes looked right past the Jedi Master's face. Those beautiful grey-green eyes filled as Qui-Gon watched helplessly, begging with their tears that he *do* something.  
  
//Don't be frightened, Obi-Wan,// he said in the boy's mind. //I'm here, and we'll get through this.//  
  
//too dark, can't see, can't see, want to see you, dark, dark, I'm *scared,* Quigee, WHY can't I see?// Obi-Wan's mental speech was almost incoherent with distress.  
  
"Shhh, Imp, remember I told you that you were very sick?"  
  
A small head nodded against his chest.  
  
"Well, your eyes aren't quite better yet."  
  
"They'll get better soon?"  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard. He couldn't lie, not to Obi-Wan and not now that he knew the boy's blindness couldn't fixed quickly. "I don't know, Imp. The Healers don't know either. We'll just have to wait."  
  
Obi-Wan digested that for a moment. Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan was exceptionally bright for his age, knew the boy would put the pieces together... Then came the question that Qui-Gon had been dreading, and had hoped the boy wouldn't think to ask. "Can I still be a Jedi?"  
  
The Master sighed. "I hope so, Imp. If it were up to me, there wouldn't even be a question. But the Council will have to decide that. Nothing to worry about right now, though, Obi-Wan. You need to concentrate on getting better."  
  
Obi-Wan tipped his face up in what he hoped was the direction of his bondmate's face. "How will I do my lessons and stuff?" he asked worriedly, already concerned about how he would continue training with the rest of the crèchelings.  
  
Qui-Gon sent a pulse of reassurance along their bond. "Don't worry about that, Imp. I have Master Aronna's permission to teach you while we try to fix your eyes. You won't fall behind."  
  
Obi-Wan snuggled against Qui-Gon's chest again, taking comfort in the embrace that was familiar to him even in the dark. "I can stay with you?" he asked, his voice hopeful.  
  
"Yes, Imp. You're going to stay with me until you get better." One way or another, he added silently.  
  
Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. "What if the Council says I have to go away?" he quavered finally.  
  
Qui-Gon hugged his bondmate again. "Then I shall go with you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said simply, for in truth, he could do no less.  
  
Obi-Wan blinked sightless eyes up at him. "Really? Won't have to leave you?"  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard and did his best to keep his voice cheerful. "Never that, Imp. Never that. Sleep now, Obi-Wan. You need to rest to recover from the fever." A light Force suggestion sent the little boy off to dreamland once again.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
It was some time later when Qui-Gon was roused from his contemplation of Obi-Wan's sleeping form by the presence of another being in the room.  
  
"Live, he will, yes?" Yoda's voice was more worried than Qui-Gon had ever heard it, evidence of how much the older Master cared for young Obi-Wan.  
  
"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said quietly. "He cannot see, though. The Healers can find nothing wrong with either his eyes or his mind, but still, his eyes remain blinded."  
  
Yoda shuffled over to the bed that Qui-Gon shared with his bondmate. He levitated up high enough to reach, then laid one green claw lightly against Obi-Wan's head. His wrinkled brow scrunched up further in puzzlement. "Right, the Healers are. Working perfectly, his eyes are." Yoda sighed. "Learn to see again, he must. Unkind, it would be, to ask him to train without sight, but unfair, it would be, to send him away from here because of this."  
  
Qui-Gon's jaw settled into its most stubborn lines. "If he is sent away, I will go with him," he said grimly.  
  
Yoda's hand moved to rest on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Know that, I do, Padawan mine. Blame you, I do not. Help you, I will, in any way I can. Save him, we can. Save him, we must."  
  
"Is it known who did this?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice dangerously quiet.  
  
Yoda shook his head. "Several suspects, there are. Still underway, the investigation is. Tell you, I will, as soon as we know anything. But careful, you should be. Done, justice shall be, but not through violence and vengeance. Angry, you are. As am I. Allow anger to rule us, we must not. Handle this, the Council will."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded reluctantly. "But if the Council doesn't handle it properly..."  
  
"Forms behind me, the line does," Yoda said impishly, startling a bark of laughter out of his recumbent former Padawan.  
  
Obi-Wan roused at the sound. "Quigee?" His eyes opened, but did not focus on anything.  
  
"You have a visitor, Imp."  
  
"Visitor?" Obi-Wan chirped happily. "Who's here?"  
  
"Tell you, I will not," Yoda grumbled. "Guess, you must."  
  
Obi-Wan giggled. "Mahstah Yoda!!" he crowed. "How's my tree?"  
  
Yoda smiled gently. "Misses you, it does. Visit it again soon, you must."  
  
"'Kay," Obi-Wan said brightly, but then his face clouded. "Can't see the tree anymore, though," he said mournfully.  
  
"See it, you can," Yoda said firmly. He nudged the little boy's mind. "See it with this, you can, remember?"  
  
Obi-Wan blinked. "Oh yeah!" he said with dawning understanding. "D'you think I can see you and Quigee, too?"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled slowly, then grinned when Yoda winked at him.  
  
"Not think. Know, I do. See us, you can. Use a different set of eyes, you must."  
  
Obi-Wan's face scrunched up with concentration. He frowned in Yoda's direction. "You look all yellow and lumpy," he informed the ancient Master bluntly  
  
Yoda's ears flattened. He thwapped his stick against the side of the bed, making Obi-Wan jump. "Lumpy, I am not," he huffed indignantly.  
  
Qui-Gon burst into helpless laughter. Obi-Wan turned toward the sound and cocked his head. "You look silvery and bluish." He grimaced. "You're all stringy."  
  
The older Master chortled gleefully, pleased that Qui-Gon had not been left out of Obi-Wan's innocent razzing. Yoda glanced around the room, and after making sure no one else would witness an indiscretion, stuck a shockingly green tongue out at his former Padawan.  
  
Qui-Gon wheezed desperately for air and clutched at his aching middle, still caught in the throes of high amusement.  
  
//Deny it with my last breath, I will,// Yoda warned in Qui-Gon's mind.  
  
//Yes, Master.// Qui-Gon realized with a start that he was actually laughing. He didn't think he'd be able to, not with Obi-Wan lying blinded and frightened next to him, perhaps as a result of his well-intentioned but untrained healing effort.  
  
Yoda grinned at him and winked knowingly when Qui-Gon glanced at his former Master. //Let yourself become mired in guilt, you must not.// Yoda's mental voice was gentle. //Saved his life, you did.//  
  
Qui-Gon smiled sadly. //Thank you, Master. It seems I am ever your student.//  
  
"Learn to see with other eyes, you must, small one," Yoda said aloud. "Teach you, Qui-Gon will."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "I know. Quigee knows everything."  
  
Yoda snorted.  
  
Qui-Gon coughed uncomfortably and blushed.  
  
"Leave you for now, I will," Yoda said. "New lessons, you have to learn."  
  
"Okay," Obi-Wan said.  
  
Qui-Gon nudged the boy.  
  
"Oh yeah. Thankyouforcoming," was Obi-Wan's concession to politeness.  
  
Yoda chuckled and left the room.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
It was some time later when Healer Elleron released Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon's care, acknowledging that there wasn't anything more the Healers could do for the boy at present. Not wanting Obi-Wan to have his first try at walking without his vision in the middle of a heavily-trafficked Temple corridor, Qui-Gon carried Obi-Wan back to his quarters. And he understood that a frightened Obi-Wan was a clingy Obi-Wan. The little boy had both hands wrapped firmly in Qui-Gon's tunics, nestled safely against one broad shoulder as the Master paced through the halls.  
  
//What do you see, little one?// Qui-Gon asked as they headed for his quarters.  
  
Obi-Wan's face took on a puzzled expression. //I dunno, Quigee. There's walls and doors and people and stuff, but I can't tell which is which very well.//  
  
Qui-Gon ruffled Obi-Wan's copper curls affectionately. //That will get easier, Imp. I'm glad you can sense them with your mind.//  
  
Obi-Wan felt for Qui-Gon's face and smiled wistfully. //I'd rather see you with my eyes, Quigee.//  
  
Qui-Gon palmed open the door to his quarters. "I know, Imp," he said aloud after the door closed behind them. "I know. You'll be able to see me with your eyes soon, I hope. But in the meantime, I'll teach you to see with the Force.  
  
Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. "Okay, Quigee. I know you'll make everything better."  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "Well, I'll do everything I can. But you'll have to help me."  
  
"Need help?"  
  
"Yes, Obi-Wan. You'll have to be a very brave Jedi Knight and help me fix your eyes. Can you do that?"  
  
Obi-Wan squared his shoulders. "Yup," he said firmly. "I'm a brave Jedi. I'll help. Serve the Light, right, Quigee?"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled fondly. "Yes. And I can think of no better way to serve the Light than to help you see again, however you can."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded staunchly. "So where do we start?"  
  
Qui-Gon glanced around the Common Room of his quarters. In a sudden burst of inspiration, he levitated everything with corners and sharp edges to the perimeter of the room.  
  
"Alright, Obi-Wan. Find the couch."  
  
"Couch?" Obi-Wan's head swiveled back and forth, then his face screwed into a pout. "Couch isn't bright like you are," he complained.  
  
"That's right, Imp. Living things are strong in the Force and easy to see. You have to look harder to see things that aren't alive."  
  
"Oh. Okay." Obi-Wan squinted instinctively, as if narrowing his sightless eyes would somehow help him focus his Force sense. He took a hesitant step in the general direction of the couch. Then another. Then a few more, each one faster and more confident than the last, until he walked right into the couch. The little boy bounced backwards with a startled squeak and landed on his bottom, blinking in disorientation.  
  
Qui-Gon had to bite his lip to keep from warning Obi-Wan about how close he was to the amply-cushioned sofa. His little bondmate had to learn how to do this by himself. He had to learn how to judge distances properly. If, Force forbid, the blindness was permanent, Qui-Gon wouldn't always be there to help him find his way.  
  
Obi-Wan scowled in the couch's direction. "Sneaky couch," he accused.  
  
Qui-Gon couldn't repress a chuckle. "Perhaps my chair will be less sneaky. Why don't you try to find it next?"  
  
Obi-Wan frowned in concentration, then his face brightened. "I can tell where your chair is, Quigee!" he said excitedly. "There's... bits of you left in it."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "That's right, Imp. I sit in my chair more often than, so I leave behind a bit of a Force signature. Any piece of furniture that's been used recently or often will be easier to see."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "Okay." He pattered over to the chair, this time stopping a little in front of it, then sticking a hand out and approaching more slowly until he felt the comfortable, much loved cushion under his hand. "Found it!" he crowed, clapping his hands.  
  
While Obi-Wan was busy locating the chair, Qui-Gon had been busy in the kitchen. Or rather, his Force sense had been busy in the kitchen. A tray with two mugs on it, one full of tea for himself and the other full of a warm chocolate drink for Obi-Wan, and a plate of ginger cookies floated out and settled on the large table just outside the kitchen.  
  
"Very good, Obi-Wan. You found the chair; I think that deserves a snack."  
  
Obi-Wan bounced in place. "Cookies?" he said hopefully.  
  
Qui-Gon grinned and sent a pulse of affection along the bond to the little boy. "I don't know. What do you think I have out for a snack?"  
  
Obi-Wan squinted. "Can't see a snack," he protested with a pout.  
  
"Follow your nose, Imp," the Master suggested.  
  
Obi-Wan's face brightened. He sniffed at the air like a hound searching for a scent trail. "Chocolate!" he squealed happily. He sniffed again. "And ginger cookies!" Another bounce. "Where?"  
  
"Come find it, Obi-Wan. Just remember to mind the table."  
  
Obi-Wan's face scrunched up in concentration as he walked hesitantly towards the table, hands outstretched in front of him and nose in the air, seeking cookies and hot chocolate. He stopped and smiled suddenly. "I smell your tea, too," he informed the young Jedi Master.  
  
A moment later, Obi-Wan's hand touched the edge of the table. "Found it, found it!" Bounce, bounce, bounce. "Can I have a cookie, Quigee? Can I? Uh?"  
  
Qui-Gon laughed and swung the little boy up in the air, then sat them both down in a chair with Obi-Wan in his lap. Despite his lingering guilt over Obi-Wan's condition, he was overjoyed that his little Imp was adapting so well, and that he was apparently undaunted by his lack of sight.  
  
He took a cookie and guided Obi-Wan's fingers to it. "Of course you can have a cookie," he said.  
  
"Oh, goody!" Obi-Wan snatched the cookie and sank his teeth into it with a satisfying crunch. "Thmk ym," he mumbled around a bite of cookie.  
  
"Not with your mouth full, Imp." Qui-Gon reminded him through his own cookie.  
  
Obi-Wan giggled. "Not with your mouth full, Quigee," he teased.  
  
Qui-Gon chuckled. "Are you thirsty?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "Uh-huh."  
  
"I'll help you with your mug. Be careful; it's still quite warm."  
  
Obi-Wan reached both small hands out to take the mug, and Qui-Gon helped him steady it so that it wouldn't spill.  
  
Obi-Wan drank noisily. "Mmmmmmmm," he sighed happily after he'd downed half the warm beverage. "Yummy. Love hot chocolate." He waited while Qui- Gon put the mug back on the table, then threw his arms around the man's neck. "Love you, too, Quigee," he declared, then planted a chocolate kiss on Qui-Gon's cheek. "Thanks for taking care of me."  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "Of course, Obi-Wan. And I love you, too, my Imp."  
  
Obi-Wan snuggled contentedly against Qui-Gon's chest, munching happily on his cookie and getting crumbs all over the Master's tunics.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and sipped his tea, his free hand stroking Obi-Wan's hair softly.  
  
When the mugs were empty and the cookies duly enjoyed, Qui-Gon rose with his sleepy bondmate in his arms. "Time for bed, Imp. It's been a long day."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded against Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Yup," he agreed. "Maybe eyes will wake up tomorrow."  
  
"I hope so, Obi-Wan. I hope so."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
It was still dark outside when something woke the Jedi Master. He blinked fuzzily.  
  
Obi-Wan was wiggling madly against his side and tugging urgently at the old tunic he'd thrown on before going to sleep.  
  
"Imp?" Qui-Gon asked blearily.  
  
"Gotta go, Quigee," Obi-Wan said a bit desperately.  
  
"Go?" the Master asked blankly. "Go where?"  
  
Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon's tunic with both hands and shook the man as hard as his tiny strength would allow. "Gotta go NOW, an' I can't find it fast with no eyes!"  
  
Qui-Gon blinked again, and then comprehension descended upon him. "Right. Hang on, Obi-Wan." He got to his feet, scooped up the squirming boy, and made a mad dash for the 'fresher.  
  
"Hurry!" Obi-Wan hissed frantically.  
  
Several minutes later, a shirtless, irritated Jedi Master emerged from the fresher holding a downcast, towel-wrapped Obi-Wan by the hand.  
  
"I'm sorry, Quigee," Obi-Wan said contritely. "I *almost* made it."  
  
Qui-Gon looked down at his young bondmate with a mixture of exasperation and affection. What he saw brought him up short.  
  
Obi-Wan looked miserable. And embarrassed.  
  
Qui-Gon sat Obi-Wan down on the bed and knelt in front of him. "No need to apologize, Imp," he said gently, cupping Obi-Wan's cheek in one large hand. The little boy nuzzled into his touch like a kitten.  
  
"I didn't *mean* to."  
  
"I know you didn't. First thing in the morning, we'll practice getting to the 'fresher from here so that you don't have to wait for me to wake up."  
  
Obi-Wan sniffled. "M'kay, Quigee."  
  
Qui-Gon tweaked the little boy's pert nose, making him giggle. "Now. Clean pajamas for both of us, and then back to bed," he said.  
  
He retrieved a clean nightshirt for Obi-Wan, and a fresh tunic for himself, and shortly had them both bundled back into bed.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
As promised, the next morning began with countless trips from Qui-Gon's room to the 'fresher. Back and forth Obi-Wan went until he could make the trip with all due speed without bumping into anything.  
  
"Very good, Obi-Wan."  
  
Obi-Wan beamed. "Yup. No more 'mergencies."  
  
Qui-Gon stifled a laugh. "All right, Imp, we need to see what we can do about those eyes of yours. Remember your first meditation lessons? Your teacher helped you meditate, right?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, puzzled.  
  
"I'm going to that with you. I'm going to take us both into a healing trance and see what I can do to fix your eyes, okay?"  
  
Obi-Wan smiled. "Okay, Quigee. Make me all better?"  
  
Qui-Gon's breath hitched. "I'll find a way somehow, Obi-Wan." He picked Obi-Wan up and sat them both down in his customary chair. "Close your eyes and relax, Imp," he instructed. Obi-Wan complied, and Qui-Gon sank them into a healing trance, begging Obi-Wan's vision centers to listen to the little boys eyes again.  
  
The pair was roused around lunchtime by the ringing door chime.  
  
Qui-Gon stretched and extended his Force sense to see who was at the door. He smiled. "I think you have some visitors, Imp."  
  
Obi-Wan yawned. His eyes blinked open, but still didn't focus on anything. "Who's here?"  
  
The door slid open. "Obi!!!" two excited little voices cried.  
  
Obi-Wan grinned hugely. "Garen! Reeft! Wow, you came to see me!"  
  
Garen skidded to a stop next to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and threw his arms around his friend's neck. "A'course we came to see you," he said. "Glad you're feeling better."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled at Reeft. Well, he tried to smile at Reeft. Except he miscalculated and smiled at a chair instead.  
  
Reeft frowned uncertainly. "I'm over here, Obi-Wan. Can't you see me?"  
  
Master Aronna, who'd accompanied the children to Qui-Gon's quarters, tsked at Reeft. She'd warned them about this.  
  
Reeft cringed. "Er, I mean..."  
  
"Nope," Obi-Wan said somberly. "Can't see. Can't see anything anymore. But Quigee's helping me."  
  
Garen and Reeft squirmed uncomfortably, not exactly sure how to play with a friend who couldn't see them.  
  
Qui-Gon came to the rescue. "Don't go away," he instructed. "I'll be right back." He got to his feet and went into his room, rummaging around in a chest for a moment. He returned to the Common room with three objects in his hand.  
  
"Now," he addressed Garen and Reeft. "I know that it's strange for you because Obi-Wan can't see. But there are plenty of games you can play together. So. Who wants to play?"  
  
Three little voices volunteered eagerly.  
  
Qui-Gon grinned. "Good. But Garen and Reeft have to wear these." Qui-Gon held up two black blindfolds that he'd used while training his last padawan in blind saber drills.  
  
Master Aronna hid a smile. She'd known Qui-Gon had a good head on his shoulders, even when he'd been just a wee lad in the crèche.  
  
Garen and Reeft glanced at each other. "Okay, Master Jinn," they chorused.  
  
Qui-Gon tied the blindfolds on.  
  
"What's going on, Quigee?" Obi-Wan asked, impatient that he was being left out.  
  
"Garen and Reeft have to wear blindfolds for this game," Qui-Gon explained. "Master Aronna, if you would..."  
  
Together, the two Masters levitated all the furniture to the edge of the room, leaving a large open space in the middle.  
  
"Now," Qui-Gon began, "I have a very special ball here, and your job is to chase it." He put a red rubber ball in the middle of the floor. A quick touch of his mind, and the ball powered up, fairly vibrating with Force energy.  
  
"I see it! I see it!" Obi-Wan chirped excitedly.  
  
"Where?" Garen pouted.  
  
Qui-Gon nudged Garen and Reeft's minds briefly. "You have to try and see it with this."  
  
The two blindfolded little boys concentrated fiercely. "Hey!" Reeft said. "I see it, too!"  
  
"Oh yeah!" Garen chimed in. "That's wizard!"  
  
Qui-Gon moved over and sat on the couch next to Master Aronna, well out of the way of the game. "All right, then. Try and catch it!" He concentrated on the ball, and it danced off across the room.  
  
The three little boys giggled and scrambled after it, tumbling over one another in their haste. The ball bounced impatiently, waiting for them to sort themselves out. As soon as they got close, it whizzed around the room again.  
  
Qui-Gon kept the red sphere just out of their reach until he could tell that the boys had begun to work as a team, instinctively avoiding the walls and each other and trying to get the elusive ball cornered. With a faint smile on his face, he made the ball hesitate *just* enough, and...  
  
"Gotcha!" Garen cried as he pounced on the ball. Garen, in turn, was immediately swarmed under by Reeft and Obi-Wan, both determined that the wily ball should not escape.  
  
"Oof!" Garen grunted. "I got the ball, guys! Get off!!" he complained.  
  
Obi-Wan and Reeft tumbled to the ground, laughing.  
  
Blindfold still in place, Reeft crawled over to the couch where Master Aronna sat. "Master? Can we take Obi-Wan back to the crèche with us? Even for a little while? Everybody misses him."  
  
Master Aronna glanced uncertainly at Qui-Gon.  
  
"We'll even leave the blindfolds on so's he's not the only one who can't see," Garen chimed in helpfully.  
  
Obi-Wan squeaked happily and bounced. "Can I go, Quigee? Can I? Uh? I promise to be home for dinner."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. Home. He liked the sound of that. "Of course you may, Imp, with Master Aronna's permission."  
  
Aronna beamed. "Of course you can come, Obi-Wan. Reeft is right; everyone's been asking for you. They'll be so happy to see you. And Garen, I think it's very good of you and Reeft to offer to keep the blindfolds on." She ruffled two heads of hair affectionately. "Qui, they've got meditations this afternoon, so Obi-Wan will be able to take the lesson with them."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"Yipeeeeee!" the three boys chorused.  
  
"I'll bring him back by fifth hour, Qui."  
  
"Thank you, Master."  
  
Aronna gathered up her three excited charges and left, gently steering Reeft away from the doorframe before he wandered into it.  
  
Qui-Gon watch them go, and the door slid shut behind them. He sighed. He really needed to meditate.  
  
The Master restored his Common Room to rights, gathered up his meditation mat, and headed out onto his balcony. He sank to his knees and searched for his center, trying to release his guilt to the Force. He'd tried so hard to save Obi-Wan's life, and then to restore his sight. But still, his little Imp couldn't see. And maybe... Maybe it really was all his fault.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
Ceriac knew he probably should've gone straight off-planet after planting the fish. He *knew* he shouldn't have stayed in Coruscant's Temple district, but he *had* to know. He had to know that Jedi children were dying and that Hrendal was avenged. So he waited, hiding out in shops and clubs, blending in as best he could with the upper-class Coruscant crowd. And he heard nothing. Worried that perhaps the fish had been discovered before it bit any children, he snuck back into the Temple with a tour.  
  
Through the windows in one of the children's training halls, he could see a group of young Jedi – perhaps three or four years old. Amazingly, they were all sitting still. Two of them wore blindfolds. Perhaps they were being punished, he mused.  
  
The two blindfolded boys flanked a third child, also a boy. This youngster had a cap of tumbled copper curls and a face that was... that was so sweetly open and innocent. So very like...  
  
So very like Hrendal before he had been taken away to the Temple.  
  
Ceriac's breath caught. That little one could almost be their brother, he looked so like a younger version of himself and his twin. The face was a bit too narrow, the features a bit too fine, but still...  
  
"Unsuccessful, you have been, Ceriac of Mander" a voice rasped unexpectedly from behind him.  
  
Ceriac gasped and whirled, ready to sell his life dearly. He had no idea how they'd found out, how they even knew who he was; they couldn't possibly have traced it to him...  
  
He froze, suddenly unable to move a muscle, except for his eyes. They swiveled downward and beheld... a thing. A small, green thing dressed in Jedi garb. The thing was obviously angry; it's eyes snapped.  
  
"Saw, I did, which child you watched. Almost killed him, you did. Thank the Force that save him, we could."  
  
Ceriac blinked. He couldn't speak, but inside, he was both frustrated and relieved. Frustrated that he hadn't killed the Jedi's children, but relieved that this one that looked so like his beloved twin had not died in the attempt.  
  
"See the resemblance, I do. Knew your brother, I did. A great Jedi, he would've been. A shock, it was, when he and his Master were killed."  
  
The thing's gaze sharpened, as though it were looking straight into his soul.  
  
"Happy, you were, that your brother was a Jedi, but forgot, you did, that to be a Jedi is to face risks. Even risk of death."  
  
Lips still frozen, Ceriac tried to ask with his eyes who the thing was and how it knew this.  
  
The thing's ears twitched irritably. "Yoda, my name is. And think very loudly, you do."  
  
Ceriac blinked. This small, green...troll? was the leader of the Jedi?  
  
"Turn you over to the Council Guards, I must," Yoda informed him in his scratchy voice. The voice suddenly went hard. "Lucky, you are, that Republic laws require that I do this. Very special, that boy is. Bonded, he is, to a Jedi Master who was my apprentice." Yoda left the rest unspoken, let the threat die there.  
  
Booted footsteps suddenly sounded in the corridor, and a pair of Temple Guards marched smartly around the corner, having been summoned by a mental command from the little Master.  
  
"You called for us, Master?" one of them asked politely.  
  
"Called for you, I did, because found the murderer, I have."  
  
The guards each took hold of one of Ceriac's arms.  
  
"Locked his muscles, I did," the Master said. "Release him now, I will. Be ready."  
  
The iron control on his limbs released, Ceriac struggled briefly, but the guards were too strong.  
  
"Lock him in a shielded cell, you shall, for now," Yoda ordered. "A right to face him, Qui-Gon has."  
  
The second guard nodded. "Shall we take him to the Council Chamber to await Master Jinn?"  
  
Yoda's ears twitched impishly. "For his protection, the cell is. Tried to kill young Kenobi, he did."  
  
The first guard grinned. "Very well, Master. I suppose it's better that we leave *something* behind for the civilian justice system to punish."  
  
Ceriac couldn't quite suppress the startled squeak that forced its way out of his throat. The cell was to *protect* him? Oh, help!  
  
The guards left with the Manderian youth dangling limply between them.  
  
Yoda reached out along the bond that still existed with his former padawan.  
  
//Padawan.//  
  
Qui-Gon swam up out of his meditation. //Master?//  
  
//Apprehended the one who poisoned Obi-Wan, we have.//  
  
Qui-Gon's mental presence went flat with rage. //Where?// he ground out.  
  
//Padawan!// Yoda said sharply. //Release your anger, or see him you shall not. Not in this state.//  
  
Qui-Gon took a deep breath and let his fury dissipate into the Force.  
  
//In the brig, he is. Shielded cell block.//  
  
//Keeping him safe from me, my Master?// Qui-Gon asked wryly.  
  
Yoda did not answer, but his mental presence was suddenly colored with faint guilt and amusement.  
  
//A right, you have, to confront him before release him, we do, to the civilian authorities.//  
  
//Thank you, Master. I'm on my way.//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
Ceriac sat glumly in the plain, grey cell. They'd caught him, which meant they'd caught his fish, and his brother's death went un-avenged. He'd failed his beloved Hrendal.  
  
He was roused from his unhappy musings by the sound of the doors to the brig swishing open.  
  
"He's in cell 20, Master Jinn," the voice of one of the guards, said.  
  
"Thank you, Faran," a deeper voice rumbled.  
  
Seconds later, he was very glad of the Force-dampening barrier that locked him in. Surely, if he'd met the face that stood on the other side without the benefit of protection, it would've been the face of his death.  
  
Whoever the man was, he was dreadfully imposing. Very tall, for a humanoid, leonine mane of hair and neatly trimmed beard, regal features, and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Those eyes had darkened to indigo and snapped with terrible anger. His demeanor, though, was as implacably serene as all the other Jedi.  
  
"Why?" the big man asked, his voice deadly quiet.  
  
Ceriac launched to his feet. "Because the Jedi killed my brother!" he cried. "You sent him on a mission -- his *first* mission -- and he died on that mission. He was only thirteen years old; the Jedi threw him away!" Ceriac was screaming, his grief and rage still as strong then as it had been all those years ago.  
  
Qui-Gon's eye's flashed. "Fool!" he thundered. "You think the Jedi are so careless with the youngsters we spend *decades* training to save this Republic from itself?! It is understandable that you should grieve your brother's loss. I know that the customs of your planet allow you to seek vengeance. So you try to kill an innocent child who wasn't even born when your brother died? That isn't vengeance," Qui-Gon hissed, "that's murder. Senseless, pointless murder. At least the death of your brother was in the line of duty. He died a brave Jedi, fighting to keep order in the Republic, young though he was."  
  
"What does it matter to you?" Ceriac shouted. "You Jedi didn't even care when my brother died! And what is it to you if one of your Jedi brats dies? There are always more children to be taked from their parents."  
  
"There is nothing -- NOTHING -- more important to the Jedi Order than its children. Those children will one day make sure that the Galaxy you live in is made safe and secure for you."  
  
"Did you think we cared nothing for your brother and his Master's deaths? Foolish boy! The Jedi were as bereaved as you were. His Master was a dear friend of mine. I knew Padawan Hrendal. We all grieved them, even as you did. And yet you still thought it would somehow be right to kill an innocent boy?"  
  
Ceriac stumbled backwards and sat down heavily on the bench. The child... Thank all the gods that child had lived. He should've gone after the Council, the ones who'd ordered Hrendal and his Master out on that mission, but they were invulnerable, impossible for someone like him to even approach. Unbidden a tear streaked down his face.  
  
"Now you feel remorse, eh?" the big Master said softly. "Well then know this. You may have robbed that wonderful little child of his sight forever."  
  
With that, Qui-Gon turned and left, leaving the Manderian youth sobbing in his cell.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
As promised, Aronna brought Obi-Wan back to Qui-Gon's quarters for dinner. The little boy was chattering non-stop, head tipped up in the Crèche Master's general direction  
  
"Quigee!" Obi-Wan said excitedly when he sensed his bondmate at the open door.  
  
"Did you have a good time, Imp?" Qui-Gon asked, swinging Obi-Wan up into his arms.  
  
"Uh-huh. But I'm hungry, so can we eat now? Please?"  
  
"Yes, yes, we can eat now," Qui-Gon said, chuckling fondly. "Master Aronna, if you aren't needed in the crèche, would you join us?"  
  
The older Master smiled. "Yes, thank you, Qui-Gon. It has been far too long since we last shared a meal."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and moved to his message unit to request three trays from the commissary.  
  
He set Obi-Wan down. "Do you think you can find your way to the 'fresher to wash your hands before dinner, Obi-Wan?"  
  
"Yep. I think so. I'll be careful." Hands outstretched to avoid any undetected obstacles, Obi-Wan made his way off to the 'fresher.  
  
After he'd left the room, Qui-Gon turned to Master Aronna. "They've caught him," he said without preamble.  
  
Aronna blinked. "So soon?"  
  
"He snuck back into the Temple to see how many children he'd managed to kill. Yoda said he was thinking loud enough to give himself away."  
  
The Crèche Master looked suspiciously at Qui-Gon. "Where'd you hide the body?"  
  
Qui-Gon laughed. "Yoda had him locked in a Force-shielded cell. I suspect that was for his protection. His twin brother died on his first mission as a Padawan. You remember Hrendal?"  
  
Aronna's brow furrowed with remembered grief. "Yes, poor lad. He was such a wonderful child. The accused is Hrendal's twin?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "Manderian culture dictates that vengeance for the death of a loved one be sought. The lad knew he wouldn't be able to get to the Council, as they were the ones who ordered Master Plom and Hrendal out on that Sith-damned mission. So he decided to kill as many children as he could with that rabid fish. A child for a child."  
  
"Stupid, senseless custom," Aronna spat. She put a reassuring hand on Qui- Gon's shoulders. "It's probably horrible of me to think this, but in a way, I'm glad it was Obi-Wan. Anyone else would've surely died, and Obi- Wan lived, thanks to you."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed and nodded. Just then, Obi-Wan came back into the room, humming to himself.  
  
"Time for dinner yet?" he asked hopefully.  
  
The door chime.  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "Yes, Obi-Wan."  
  
"Oh goody!"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
Qui-Gon's internal clock told him it was just dawn when he was rudely awakened from an uneasy sleep by a weight thudding down solidly onto his abdomen.  
  
"Force!" he swore as he was startled awake.  
  
The Force's response to that was to giggle delightedly and wriggle in it's perch on Qui-Gon's belly.  
  
"Imp?" he said fuzzily around a tremendous yawn that cracked his jaw and made his eyes tear up. He cracked one eye open sleepily.  
  
"Yup!" Obi-Wan chirped, still giggling.  
  
Qui-Gon's eyes suddenly snapped open. Obi-Wan had jumped right onto him with unerring accuracy. Too much accuracy for boy who couldn't see. The Jedi Master fixed his gaze on Obi-Wan's face, desperate hope nearly choking him, robbing him of speech.  
  
Obi-Wan's grey-green eyes sparkled merrily back at him in the light of the early morning. *At* him, not *through* him as they had since the boy's illness.  
  
His face wreathed with a brilliant smile, Obi-Wan leaned down and took Qui- Gon's bearded cheeks between his small palms. "Your eyes are so very blue, Quigee," he whispered in wonderment.  
  
A strangled noise that sounded something like a sob forced it's way out of Qui-Gon's throat. "Obi-Wan," he rasped, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Your eyes..."  
  
Obi-Wan was already nodding happily. "They work again," he said joyfully, then threw his arms around Qui-Gon's neck. "I knew you'd fix them 'venshully." His small voice held the conviction of implicit trust.  
  
Qui-Gon blinked. "I fixed them?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, his curls tickling Qui-Gon's throat. "Yup. Had a dream 'bout you. BAD dream. You were in big trouble, fighting an ugly bad guy." Obi-Wan tipped his face upwards, his little brow furrowed with worry. "You were fighting him, and he had a saber with two blades, and I couldn't help you 'cause I couldn't see you. I couldn't get to you, Quigee, and the bad guy won. And you got hurt really bad." Obi-Wan's face set determinedly. "Not gonna let you get hurt, Quigee. Not ever! Eyes HAD to get better so's I could keep you safe."  
  
Tears sprang to the Jedi Master's eyes as he folded his little Imp into a fierce embrace and sent a silent prayer of thanks for Obi-Wan's recovery to the Force. He curled his long, rangy frame protectively around the small boy, snuggling the child in under his chin. He felt Obi-Wan's happy sigh gust lightly against the skin of his throat.  
  
Obi-Wan squirmed against him suddenly, and his curly head popped into view. His little face twisted in child-like concern when he saw that Qui-Gon's eyes were wet. He patted the big man's cheek gently.  
  
"Don't worry, Quigee," he said comfortingly. "You're always beautiful, whether I see you with these," he pointed to his eyes, "or with this," he finished, thumping one little hand over his own heart.  
  
Qui-Gon's breath hitched, and he fought to keep from losing his control entirely. He kissed Obi-Wan's brow, then the curly crown of his head before hugging him close again. "I love you so very much, my Imp," he whispered, heedless of the silent tears that slipped down his cheeks to soak into his beard.  
  
Obi-Wan wriggled happily and pressed a small kiss to Qui-Gon's collar bone. "I love you, too, Quigee." He snuggled against the young Jedi Master's chest and relaxed bonelessly into sleep, having clearly decided that he'd had enough excitement for one morning, and that a nap was in order.  
  
Qui-Gon's heart swelled as he thanked the Force for the thousandth time for bringing this precious, wonderful, *perfect* child into his life. He silently pledged with his heart, his life, his very soul to honor that gift until he joined the Force and beyond. 


End file.
